


changeup

by Kuro_iplrrr



Series: Sonatas [2]
Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Baseball, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Mild Language, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuro_iplrrr/pseuds/Kuro_iplrrr
Summary: When Eddy turns up at his high school baseball tryouts, he is surprised to see the pitcher which ruined Eddy's team's chances to win the national championships.[baseball!au]
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang
Series: Sonatas [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542460
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	changeup

**Author's Note:**

> haha yeah, i was supposed to cross-post of pianos and violins but this was in my drafts so i went eh why not post this first to make yall suffer more
> 
> enjoy this baseball!twoset au, i guess,,,
> 
> originally posted on wattpad on august 27, 2019

Eddy Chen was up at-bat, taking deep breaths, gaze completely focused on the pitcher.

“Batting eighth, catcher, Eddy Chen, number 2.”

His feet shuffled inside the batter’s box, getting back into his stance.

It was the typical ninth inning clutch, two outs, bases loaded, batter at full count.

They were behind, 3-2. Now if only Eddy could land just one hit and bring two of his teammates in, they would win national title.

 _If I could hit this…_ Eddy began to think, going through the pitcher’s entire repertoire. _He’s got a fastball, a slider, a curveball, and a nasty forkball that no one on the team has hit yet. He’s so small but he can throw cannons like that already, what a monster._

He saw the pitcher shake off the sign. Those eyes underneath the sports glasses held no fire, no passion, just dull reluctance. It was like they were laughing in his face, telling Eddy that they would win easily.

_He shook it off, it probably isn’t a fastball._

The coach told him to smack it, to send it flying.

The pitcher nodded and got into his stance. If Eddy wasn’t batting right now, he would say that his form was absolutely breathtaking.

The player’s arm swung forward, blasting the baseball from his impossibly small frame.

It flew by in an instant.

But Eddy swore he reacted faster.

He hears the familiar ringing of the ball connecting with his bat.

 _Foul_. The baseball landed in their team’s dugout.

“Swing for it, Chen!” He heard his teammate over at second yell at him.

“C’mon, Eddy!”

The roars from the dugout became white noise as he saw the catcher throw back the ball. _It was a curveball._ He stepped out of the batter’s box, doing a few light swings of his bat.

“Good swing,” dully noted their catcher. The pitcher received the ball with a thud of his glove, absentmindedly fumbling with his grip.

Eddy rolled his eyes. _I could catch for this guy better than you ever will, buddy._

“Tell your pitcher to send me a good one and I’ll show you a good swing.” Eddy bit back.

The both of them felt the umpire’s gaze and they immediately switched back to game mode.

“Play ball!”

Eddy stepped back into the batter’s box. He inhaled deeply. _This is it._

Oddly, the pitcher nodded almost immediately at the catcher’s sign.

_It must be a favourite of his then. It might be the slider._

The pitcher performed his graceful windup, lifting his leg so beautifully and with perfection that Eddy should probably stop thinking about his opponent and focus on batting.

The batter gripped the bat with more strength, ready for the pitch.

Another swing of his arm and Eddy braced for it.

He began to swing his bat with such speed that he _knew_ he would hit the pitch.

But realized just as soon as his bat crossed the plate that it was over.

The satisfying _thud_ of the baseball connecting with the catcher’s mitt told the entire story.

He fell to his knees as he felt his swing follow through to his right shoulder.

Eddy stayed there in the batters box as he heard all the shrieks of the rival team as they begun to celebrate their victory. He kneeled on the ground, his head rested on top of his bat. The runners come up behind him and pick him up to escort him to the line. He stared back at the pitcher and catcher directly across him from the line. The catcher had a shit-eating grin all over his face. The pitcher was avoiding his gaze.

“... U-14 Baseball National Championships, winner, the White Dragons, 3-2.” The head umpire announced. The two teams bowed at each other before turning their backs against each other and heading to the stands.

One team was met with cheers of joy, while the other was met with careful, calculated applause.

Eddy couldn’t remember much but his teammates and coach patting him on the back, congratulating him for a job well done. He remembered his pitcher hugging him tightly and thanking him for everything. He remembered packing his things and retreating to the bathroom, locking up a stall and sitting on the toilet cover.

The tears begun to flow before Eddy could stop them.

\---

When Eddy turns up at his highschool baseball tryouts, he is surprised to see the pitcher which ruined Eddy’s team’s chances to win the national championships.

He’s walking towards the bullpen after submitting his application form to one of the managers when he feels a weight bump against his back. He pauses.

“Ah,” the voice is familiar for some reason. “I’m sorry-” Eddy turns around and he gapes at who he sees.

“It’s you!” Eddy exclaims, his tone filled with shock. “That pitcher!”

Brett Yang blinks at the words. “Uh… have we met before?”

Eddy is in complete shock. _This idiot doesn’t even remember me?!_

“Yeah, U-14 nationals, remember?” Eddy spat out.

At the words, Brett seems to stiffen. “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t really… remember.” 

Messy hair, droopy eyes behind the sports glasses, deadpan face; Eddy was not mistaken. This was the pitcher that ended his dream of winning the national title. The pitcher is even shorter up close, he fiddles with the laces of his glove as he talks to Eddy, looking down at his cleats like they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

Eddy begins to feel sorry for using such a tone with the shorter man. “I’m sorry for talking like that to you, didn’t mean it, promise.” He offers out his hand for a shake. “I’m Eddy Chen, first year.”

Brett hesitantly takes the hand offered out to him. Eddy can feel every single callous on the pitcher’s fingertips. “Brett Yang, second year.”

“You’re older than me!”

Brett shrugs. “Yeah,”

“Why didn’t you try out sooner?” Eddy and him continue walking toward the bullpen. 

“I uh,” Brett stutters, “took a break from baseball last year.”

At the words, Eddy was terrified to respond. He didn’t want to pry, even if the curiosity ate at him. “Well, as long as you weren’t slacking during your break from pitching, I guess.”

Brett chuckles, the sound welcome and pleasant in Eddy’s ears.

“Gather round,” one of the coaches announces to the group of people in the bullpen. “Let me introduce to you Jake and Jan, they’re the team’s current battery.” The two seniors nod at the acknowledgement. “We’re going to be pairing you guys up for the evaluation.”

As if fate wasn’t done with them, Brett and Eddy got paired up. “First year, Chen, catcher, you’ll be with second year, Yang.” Mutters and hushed whispers come from the other people in the dugout.

“Look, it’s Yang…”

“It’s that pitcher who won nationals two years ago…”

“Why did he come to a regular school like ours? Wouldn’t the Dragons offer him a scholarship if he stayed with their team?”

Brett shrinks under the words. Eddy doesn’t may them any mind and tugs Brett away toward the furthest lane of the bullpen.

They are left with a few minutes to discuss before having to demonstrate both their pitching and catching skills. And ultimately, what was left unsaid, how well they would work together.

“So, what pitches can you throw?” Eddy asks as he sits down to strap into the gear. He sees Brett come down beside him to help with the shinguards.

Brett pauses to think for a while. “Fastball, curveball, sinker and forkball, slider, and uh,”

The catcher pauses in an attempt to meet the pitcher’s eyes, which were looking away from him.

“A change-up.”

Eddy’s mind immediately flashes back to that final pitch. _So that was your change-up._

“Got it,” Eddy pulls out a helmet from one of the racks and stands behind the mock home plate. “I’ll let you warm up a bit, okay, then let’s see each one.”

Brett seemed to light up at the thought of having to pitch properly, he begins to slowly. “Is it really okay?”

Eddy simply hit his fist against the pocket of his mitt. “Of course, whenever you’re ready.”

He didn’t squat for Brett just yet, nor did Brett go into his full wind-up, but every single time Eddy would position his glove, whether it was in the corner, down the middle, just slightly high, it would perfectly thud against his mitt.

Eddy couldn’t believe it. _Just how good can this guy target his throws?!_

“Okay, let’s pitch, Brett.” Eddy dons his mask and squats down. “Give me a two-seamer, if that’s okay.”

Brett nods without much reluctance. He immediately steps onto the plate and gets into his windup.

Seeing Brett’s form up close takes Eddy’s breath away. His pitching form is fluid, perfect, balanced neatly between his legs to his core over to his shoulders. His arm swing came later than what Eddy expected, but he adjusts quickly. The fastball drops ever so slightly, but it is still perched in the strike zone.

_Absolutely perfect._

The resonating sound from the delivery makes the entire bullpen stare at them.

“Nice pitch,” Eddy smiles at him from behind the mask, without malice nor spite; Just pure admiration for the pitcher before him.

“Thank you,” Brett nods, his cheeks becoming ever so slightly pink. The pitcher pulls down his hat in an attempt to hide his blushing face while shuffling his feet against the mound.

“Off-speed next, I want a change-up.” _I want to see the pitch that struck me out._

Brett nods. He assumes that breathtaking form once more. His arm swings down at the same pace, but the ball slows down and drops as it nears the plate.

_No wonder this struck me out. It would fool anyone especially after all his curves and fastballs._

“Good,” Eddy throws the baseball back at his pitcher and grins. “Your form hasn’t gotten worse.”

Brett smiles back, the first time he did so. Eddy couldn’t help but relax. Knowing that your catcher was happy with your pitches made a pitcher happy, and knowing that your pitcher was happy made for the best type of pitches.

Brett goes through several pitches with Eddy, showing off both his speed and control, unrivaled by any of the other pitchers in the lane beside them. A swell of pride runs through Eddy’s veins as their coach nears them to observe. He announces different pitches for Brett to throw while a manager notes them down on a clipboard.

Four-seam fastball, out, high. _Perfect_.

Curveball, late break. _Perfect_.

Forkball into the plate.

Eddy had a bit of trouble dropping to his knees to block it, but did it all this same, much to Brett’s relief.

Each pitch was beautiful, regulated, and _perfect_.

“Good.” The coach affirms. “Chen and Yang, I’ll have you go for fielding practice and if you do well, you’ll be welcome to the first string. Have your break, boys.”

Eddy smiles widely and stands up to walk over to his partner.

“You’re pitches are great!” Eddy compliments, grinning from ear to ear. He wraps an arm around Brett as they waddle back to the bench. 

Brett helps Eddy to get out of the bulky catcher’s gear.

“Y’know, you don’t have to help me with my gear.” Eddy tells him as Brett efficiently removes one of his shinguards. 

Brett chuckles, but behind it, there is a tinge of bitterness. “It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

Eddy wants to know more about the enigma named Brett Yang.

And Brett wants to cherish the small friendship he found in Eddy Chen.

\---

The two of them become practically inseparable after that. Brett has never had a doting _kouhai_ before, but Eddy was the perfect example of it. They became partners on and off the field, mindlessly drifting together when they were on the field. Brett and Eddy even met up during their lunch break near the diamond where they would talk about anime, baseball, and sometimes even music. 

Brett once confesses that he didn’t listen to a lot of modern music because he was more of a classical music kind of guy.

Eddy didn’t let that faze him, he continued the conversation seamlessly by beginning to talk about how overrated Beethoven was and how more people should listen to Sibelius.

Eddy Chen slid into Brett Yang’s life so easily that it was hard not to let him.

Brett still felt shadows of guilt on his shoulders from the U-14 finals, but Eddy assured him that the past was something he could look beyond. 

“And besides, we’re gonna kick some serious ass.” Eddy added after their conversation, which made Brett laugh.

One afternoon, the both of them are on the roof, like one of those cheesy anime scenes. It’s midday, but the sky is filled to the brim with clouds. The shade coupled with the cool breeze offers a perfect resting spot for the two of them. Brett is tossing a baseball to himself, it’s his old baseball he’s had since he was a newbie. It was dark from all the grime and dirt, but Brett refuses to fumble with anything else.

“Show me your change-up grip?” Eddy inquires, sitting up and leaning on the wall. He always found Brett to be his favourite battery partner, even though a lot of the the other pitchers were skilled. Brett would say that the other catchers were talented, yet he always felt the most comfortable with Eddy.

Brett demonstrates. He uses the circle changeup, which required his index and thumb to form the ‘ok’ sign and a clean release from his other fingers. 

Eddy suddenly grabs his hand. “Y’know, I thought this before, but your hands are so pretty.”

Brett flushes as Eddy begins to stroke his hand. “Dude...”

Eddy stumbles back, letting go of Brett’s hand. “Ah, wait no! I didn’t mean it in a weird way,” It was his turn to trip over his words. “It’s just that your form and your grips are so perfect, they probably taught you that back at the Dragons, huh?”

The mention of Brett’s previous team makes the older flinch.

It makes Eddy wonder just how much Brett resents talking about his old team… and most especially, _why_ he hates talking about it.

“Hey Brett,” Eddy starts, hesitant to bring up the topic. “We’re friends, right?”

Eddy is answered by the silence. He looks at Brett directly.

“I think so,” is Brett’s simple reply.

Eddy offers him a kind smile. “Yay!”

They are engulfed with more silence before they both talk at the same time.

“It’s just-”

“I don’t want-”

They looked at each other.

“You go,” Brett urges him.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but,” Eddy fumbles with the hem of his pants. “I really want to know what happened with you and the Dragons.”

Brett knew the question was coming sooner or later.

_What’s the matter, Yang?! Can’t fucking handle fifty push-ups?_

_What a piss poor excuse for a pitcher!_

_You don’t belong on this team._

_You have no right to shake of my signs!_

The words come flooding back in Brett’s memory and he curls up in his place. “I- I do- I don’t-”

Eddy senses the panic. “Hey look, Brett, you don’t have to tell me, it’s okay.”

The catcher is right in front of him now, his figure filling Brett’s entire vision.

“They told me I’m not good enough.” Brett replies, looking up into Eddy’s eyes.

 _You can’t survive on this team, Yang._ One of the coaches.

 _I hate catching for you._ The catcher.

“I was being forced to play because they wanted to-”

“No,” Eddy frowns at him. “Don’t say anything. Tell me when you’re okay, not like this, ok dude?”

It is only then when Brett notices how much he’s actually shaking.

“Okay.” Brett breathes.

\---

They continue training religiously every single day. Batting, pitching, catching, fielding, meetings, rinse, repeat.

Eddy never asked Brett about it again, but Brett knew how curious Eddy truly was. 

And before they knew it, they were up against the Black Dragons in a practice match.

The Black Dragons were the team that took in graduates from the White Dragons, and with the addition of newly scouted members. It was as if the team, who was a fully armed battalion, decided to add more ammunition.

They stand in line, facing each other. Brett right beside Eddy, his gaze never facing forward. Brett shuffles on the balls of his feet, bouncing between putting his weight on one of the other, as if counting the seconds until they had to go back to the dugout. Eddy notices how the other team sends Brett nasty looks, and he glares at them right back. They bow and wish each other a good game.

They retreat back in the dugout where Brett squishes himself against the corner. He tucks his legs up onto the stool and buries his head into his arms, making him even smaller.

“Eddy,” Brett’s voice is small, only the faintest sound of his name is what Eddy hears. “I can’t do this.”

Eddy looks at him and back to the other members in the dugout (who thankfully haven’t noticed Brett) and back onto his pitcher. He grabs one of his hands (the left one, mind you) and tugs. “C’mon,”

They aren’t supposed to go in until the fifth inning, but were supposed to get in the bullpen for some warmup. Eddy found that fact to be dismissable at the moment.

“Wait- Eddy,” attempts Brett. “Eddy, where are we-?”

His hand still wrapped the pitcher’s, he brings Brett to one of the garden areas just out of sight of the diamond. Brett could feel the warmth of Eddy’s hand against his own, the heat soothing him just a bit, but not enough to calm his raging nerves. Eddy ducks behind one of the bushes, pulling the hesitant pitcher behind him. They sit on the ground, surrounded by the warm wind and the sound of fluttering leaves.

“You’re gonna be okay, Brett.” Eddy consoles him, the elder one not meeting his gaze. He takes both of Brett’s hands in his and squeezes them. The action makes Brett look up to meet Eddy’s eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so afraid of them, but you’re with us now.”

Brett’s frown deepens, his eyebrows furrow up, and his eyes glaze over. He’s on the verge of tears.

“I’m scared of them, Eddy.” Brett chokes up, trying to pry his hands away from Eddy’s grip. “I don’t-”

Eddy just squeezes his partner’s freezing hands. “No, don’t be. You’re going to do just fine, you’re not with them anymore. You’re here with us, with _me_.”

Brett drops his gaze and shakes his head. “I’m not a good pitcher, Ed-”

“Who the _hell_ told you that?” Eddy’s tone becomes sharper, which makes Brett jump.

“They did-”

“I’m not them, Brett.”

“...”

“Have any of our teammates ever told you that you’re not a good pitcher?” asks Eddy, his words softening. He runs his fingers over the knuckles of Brett’s right hand. “No one has, right?”

Brett doesn’t answer, his eyes locked onto a patch of grass.

“Brett?”

“... no one.”

The answer does not satisfy the catcher. “Why are you so hung up on them, Brett?”

“They treated me like shit.” Brett meets Eddy’s gaze once more, a few tears threatening to escape his eyes. “They told me I was a shit pitcher, they- they made me pitch for them every single day, laughing at me whenever I’d spot wrong, or if my grip was bad.”

Eddy doesn’t reply, silently encouraging him to continue.

“My dad is one of the coaches, they always said I was a pitcher because of my dad,” at the words, Brett gulps. “My dad was strict with me, no special treatment, nothing like that; but they all seemed to think I was being treated differently. The catcher hated me, always telling me I was a pain in the ass to catch for. He never let me pitch anything I wanted, only gave me signs of what _he_ wanted.”

Brett could feel the sinking feeling in his heart as he recalled the events. “He never let me shake of his signs. He would tell me to fake shaking my head during a game to fool the batters, he would tell me I was- I…”

Brett trails off as a few tears begin to run down his cheeks. “I was a nobody, and everyone else on the team believed him. He would sometimes call shit pitches when I pitched so that the batter could hit it, I couldn’t go against him because he would- he-”

Eddy quickly wraps his arms around the smaller player, his hug enveloping Brett in a warmth he never felt before, but craved so badly.

“He would hit me after practice or after a game that we lost, he and the other guys would bring me to the storage room and beat me up under my uniform.”

The confession makes Eddy’s heart ache. The catcher hugs Brett even tighter, letting Brett soak his tears onto the shoulder of his uniform. He wants to tell Brett just how sorry he was for all the shit he’d gone through. He wants to tell Brett just how much he appreciated him. He wants to tell Brett to forget all about his shitty old team. 

He wants to tell Brett everything.

Brett continues crying on his shoulder, the pitcher’s hands grabbing Eddy’s back, clutching against the catcher.

“It’s okay Brett.” A hand goes to rub his back soothingly. “You’re amazing, I hope you know that I think that about you.”

Brett sobs, “You’re lying.”

Eddy offers a chuckle. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I was lying, bro.”

Brett laughs.

They separate, Eddy resting his hands on Brett’s shoulders. “You okay now?”

Brett wipes the tears from his face. His eyes are red and puffy from all the crying. Just as he was about to respond, they hear a scream coming from the diamond’s direction.

“Let’s go back,” Eddy announces, standing up and patting his pants from the dirt. “What do you say?”

Brett sees the taller man’s hand right up his face. He stares at it before gripping it. “Okay.”

Eddy tugs Brett up from the ground.

They begin to sprint back to the diamond.

\---

They get back just as the top of the fifth inning begins. Eddy bows his head and apologizes to the coach, who was supposed to be angry but one look at Brett’s puffy stare made him reconsider.

“Get to the bullpen, boys,” is the simple order. Eddy and Brett race to grab Eddy’s gear and put it on. “You’re going in during the bottom half.”

Jake, their starting pitcher, comes back from batting, shrugging off his gloves in the process. “Got me looking,” he reports to the coach and the manager. “Fast, fast, curve, fast, and the last one was a sinker.” He recounted the pitching order.

Brett, who is busy putting on Eddy’s right shinguard, overhears this. “Uh,” he tries to get the manager’s attention, stuttering a bit over his words. “Ramirez also has a slider.”

The manager, Zoe, and coach both turn to look at him. “Got it,” notes Zoe, scribbling onto the page.

Eddy begins to walk to the bullpen, wrapping an arm around Brett and covering his hand with his glove. “Y’know, with your new and improved slurve pitch, you’re gonna get strikeouts easily.”

Brett doesn’t let that get to him. “Only if you can frame it properly, Chen.”

Eddy laughs heartily, his hand resting over his stomach. “Of course.”

\---

As Eddy assumes his catching stance behind the plate, he slams his fist against the pocket of his glove. The thud reassures him that he’s going to be giving it his all today. He raises his thumb, index, and pinkie out toward the infield. “Let’s get some outs, boys!” Enthusiastic cheers from his fielders made Eddy grin.

The batter was the catcher Eddy remembered from the U-14 game. Eddy sends a glare from under his mask.

“Nice to see you again.” The catcher smirks at him.

“No, the pleasure is all mine,” Eddy replies, sarcastically. He shouts over to Brett, who’s rotating his arm in small circles, “Give me a good one, Brett!”

Brett nods, all traces of pain and sadness washing away. A fire lights underneath the frames of his glasses, nothing like when Eddy saw him during the championship. A shiver runs through Eddy’s entire figure.

_This is a Brett Yang you’ll be sorry you never got to see._

Eddy flashes several signs and Brett smiles back at him.

_Give me your best change-up, we’re going for the kill from the start!_

The taunts of the fielders and the cheers from the crowd become white noise in Eddy’s and Brett’s ears. The battery is zoned out, focused only on the person before them.

Eddy gets into position, carefully positioning his mitt low into the strike zone.

He only has a split-second to admire Brett’s form before his arm swings forward, delivering the pitch with utmost perfection.

“ _Strike_ _!”_

**[end] changeup**

**Author's Note:**

> endnote: thank you for reading! this was a pretty quick story, nothing really interesting happened haha but I really wanted to try to write something baseball related without having to go into game-level details haha. honestly, i could've probably written their entire game, but I want to spare you guys of the pain of having to read through it lolol


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